Published: Wednesday, February 27, 2013 at 9:39 p.m.

Last Modified: Wednesday, February 27, 2013 at 9:39 p.m.

Dodi Cheramie talks about her late boyfriend, Sergio Castellano, like only a woman in love can.

She remembers how he would start singing the lyrics of a song on the radio — loudly — before the musician started.

She remembers how he would blink at her flirtatiously, trying to wink.

And she hates whoever stole her phone because she'll never be able to watch any of the videos she took of him.

“I loved his accent. I loved his laugh,” Cheramie said, wiping her eyes. “He was so strong.”

And, like many who have lost loved ones before her, Cheramie said she feels partially responsible for his death.

Castellano — a 22-year-old Chiapas, Mexico, native who Cheramie said “adored” his family and friends — was killed after getting into a pickup truck with three people he met Saturday at a Houma bar, Terrebonne sheriff's detectives said. Investigators believe they intended to rob Castellano.

Cheramie said if she and Castellano, who lived in Lafourche Parish, hadn't fought earlier that day, maybe her boyfriend wouldn't have gone drinking without her.

The Terrebonne Sheriff's Office is holding three people in connection with Castellano's death — Troy Jackson, 26, Ciegie Cheramie, 25, and Brandy Perdue, 18. They are charged with first-degree murder, armed robbery and obstruction of justice.

Jackson is accused of shooting Castellano in the vehicle, but all are charged with murder because detectives believe they were in on the commission of the crime, Sheriff Jerry Larpenter said.

Larpenter has compared it to two robbers who go into a store and one fatally shoots the cashier. Both are charged with murder in that scenario, he said.

Detectives heard Sunday morning that a woman was driving around with Castellano's body in a pickup truck, but after stopping her they found out his body had been discarded on Bayou Sale Road. They found his body that afternoon, a few feet off the road and covered with weeds, Larpenter said.

As Castellano's friends and his father spoke about him after his death, the word “joven,” or young, was repeated often. Castellano was young when he came to America at 18, he was the youngest of the friends he made in Louisiana, and he was too young to die, they said.

“It's a shame that he worked so hard for his money and someone killed him just for the money,” Erick Garcia, Castellano's friend and former roommate, said through a translator. “Only a person that's so cold, that has no heart, could do this.”

Some friends said they were angry over Castellano's death. Others said they were only sad.

“It's sad to see that they killed him this way,” Victor Gonzales, another friend and roommate, said through a translator. “Even if they (prosecutors) give them 20 or 30 years, even if they give them life, it's not going to bring him back.”

Still, Castellano's father and friends said they do want to see his killer or killers brought to justice.

Castellano cleaned tanks at Offshore Cleaning Systems. He moved to south Louisiana on a visa four years ago to join his father, Jose Lopez, for work, friends and family said. His family in Mexico had originally planned that his older brother would go, but his wife had a baby, so Castellano went in his place.

However, Castellano's ex-girlfriend had a baby herself not long after he arrived in Louisiana — a son who Castellano was hoping he would get to meet someday, Cheramie said. He had not returned to Mexico in the four years since he came here.

Castellano would do anything to get his friends to laugh and cheer up, they said.

“He didn't want to see people sad,” Garcia said.

“If he could make you laugh, that's really what it was about,” Dodi said.

When Castellano first moved to America, “he felt alone,” his father said through a translator. “He was in a strange place, and he didn't have any friends. But then he started to meet people and make friends, and he felt comfortable.”

None of his friends have seen their families in years either, and they became each other's families after befriending and living with each other, Garcia said.

Castellano taught himself English after moving here, friends and family said.

“He's intelligent. He learned English within a short time,” his friend and co-worker Samuel Sen said through a translator. “He's bright.”

The one thing he didn't like about America was the discrimination he faced here as a Hispanic man, Cheramie said.

“Plenty of his friends would get beat up and jumped, including his dad. ... He got all of his teeth knocked out,” she said.

Family was extremely important to Castellano, his loved ones said.

“Before he came, his mother gave him a metal bracelet as a gift,” his father said. “He told his mother, ‘I will never take this off. I will die with this.' ”

When Cheramie miscarried Castellano's baby, he got a tattoo of an angel on his wrist, she said.

Cheramie, who's 35, said she often felt she was too old for him.

“But he didn't care,” she said. “He didn't care that I'm that much older than him. He didn't care that I have three kids.”

He loved to cook, and he loved his soccer team, Chivas.

“He lost two or three bets where he had to shave his head” over his team, Cheramie recalled, laughing. “Money, hair — let's bet. That's how dedicated he was to his team.”

Castellano's head is shaved in a lot of the photos Cheramie is putting together for the funeral, and the bracelet his mother gave him can be seen in every photo.

Cheramie is planning a local funeral with Castellano's father and friends. His body will be taken to Mexico later for a funeral there.

Lopez said he has heard that a church is accepting donations for Castellano's funeral arrangements, but he has not spoken to anyone with any church about this, he said. If church officials would like to contact him about donations or if any individuals would like to make donations, contact translator Susan Martinez at 806-382-2757.

“These are sad times,” Gonzales said. “He was always there for us. He was a good friend. He's going to be a very hard person to forget.”

Staff Writer Katie Urbaszewski can be reached at 448-7617 or katie.urbaszewski@dailycomet.com.

<p>Dodi Cheramie talks about her late boyfriend, Sergio Castellano, like only a woman in love can.</p><p>She remembers how he would start singing the lyrics of a song on the radio — loudly — before the musician started. </p><p>She remembers how he would blink at her flirtatiously, trying to wink.</p><p>And she hates whoever stole her phone because she'll never be able to watch any of the videos she took of him.</p><p>“I loved his accent. I loved his laugh,” Cheramie said, wiping her eyes. “He was so strong.”</p><p>And, like many who have lost loved ones before her, Cheramie said she feels partially responsible for his death.</p><p>Castellano — a 22-year-old Chiapas, Mexico, native who Cheramie said “adored” his family and friends — was killed after getting into a pickup truck with three people he met Saturday at a Houma bar, Terrebonne sheriff's detectives said. Investigators believe they intended to rob Castellano.</p><p>Cheramie said if she and Castellano, who lived in Lafourche Parish, hadn't fought earlier that day, maybe her boyfriend wouldn't have gone drinking without her.</p><p>The Terrebonne Sheriff's Office is holding three people in connection with Castellano's death — Troy Jackson, 26, Ciegie Cheramie, 25, and Brandy Perdue, 18. They are charged with first-degree murder, armed robbery and obstruction of justice. </p><p>Jackson is accused of shooting Castellano in the vehicle, but all are charged with murder because detectives believe they were in on the commission of the crime, Sheriff Jerry Larpenter said.</p><p>Larpenter has compared it to two robbers who go into a store and one fatally shoots the cashier. Both are charged with murder in that scenario, he said.</p><p>Detectives heard Sunday morning that a woman was driving around with Castellano's body in a pickup truck, but after stopping her they found out his body had been discarded on Bayou Sale Road. They found his body that afternoon, a few feet off the road and covered with weeds, Larpenter said.</p><p>As Castellano's friends and his father spoke about him after his death, the word “joven,” or young, was repeated often. Castellano was young when he came to America at 18, he was the youngest of the friends he made in Louisiana, and he was too young to die, they said.</p><p>“It's a shame that he worked so hard for his money and someone killed him just for the money,” Erick Garcia, Castellano's friend and former roommate, said through a translator. “Only a person that's so cold, that has no heart, could do this.”</p><p>Some friends said they were angry over Castellano's death. Others said they were only sad.</p><p>“It's sad to see that they killed him this way,” Victor Gonzales, another friend and roommate, said through a translator. “Even if they (prosecutors) give them 20 or 30 years, even if they give them life, it's not going to bring him back.”</p><p>Still, Castellano's father and friends said they do want to see his killer or killers brought to justice.</p><p>Castellano cleaned tanks at Offshore Cleaning Systems. He moved to south Louisiana on a visa four years ago to join his father, Jose Lopez, for work, friends and family said. His family in Mexico had originally planned that his older brother would go, but his wife had a baby, so Castellano went in his place.</p><p>However, Castellano's ex-girlfriend had a baby herself not long after he arrived in Louisiana — a son who Castellano was hoping he would get to meet someday, Cheramie said. He had not returned to Mexico in the four years since he came here.</p><p>Castellano would do anything to get his friends to laugh and cheer up, they said.</p><p>“He didn't want to see people sad,” Garcia said.</p><p>“If he could make you laugh, that's really what it was about,” Dodi said.</p><p>When Castellano first moved to America, “he felt alone,” his father said through a translator. “He was in a strange place, and he didn't have any friends. But then he started to meet people and make friends, and he felt comfortable.”</p><p>None of his friends have seen their families in years either, and they became each other's families after befriending and living with each other, Garcia said. </p><p>Castellano taught himself English after moving here, friends and family said.</p><p>“He's intelligent. He learned English within a short time,” his friend and co-worker Samuel Sen said through a translator. “He's bright.”</p><p>The one thing he didn't like about America was the discrimination he faced here as a Hispanic man, Cheramie said. </p><p>“Plenty of his friends would get beat up and jumped, including his dad. ... He got all of his teeth knocked out,” she said.</p><p>Family was extremely important to Castellano, his loved ones said.</p><p>“Before he came, his mother gave him a metal bracelet as a gift,” his father said. “He told his mother, 'I will never take this off. I will die with this.' ”</p><p>When Cheramie miscarried Castellano's baby, he got a tattoo of an angel on his wrist, she said.</p><p>Cheramie, who's 35, said she often felt she was too old for him.</p><p>“But he didn't care,” she said. “He didn't care that I'm that much older than him. He didn't care that I have three kids.”</p><p>He loved to cook, and he loved his soccer team, Chivas.</p><p>“He lost two or three bets where he had to shave his head” over his team, Cheramie recalled, laughing. “Money, hair — let's bet. That's how dedicated he was to his team.”</p><p>Castellano's head is shaved in a lot of the photos Cheramie is putting together for the funeral, and the bracelet his mother gave him can be seen in every photo. </p><p>Cheramie is planning a local funeral with Castellano's father and friends. His body will be taken to Mexico later for a funeral there.</p><p>Lopez said he has heard that a church is accepting donations for Castellano's funeral arrangements, but he has not spoken to anyone with any church about this, he said. If church officials would like to contact him about donations or if any individuals would like to make donations, contact translator Susan Martinez at 806-382-2757.</p><p>“These are sad times,” Gonzales said. “He was always there for us. He was a good friend. He's going to be a very hard person to forget.”</p><p>Staff Writer Katie Urbaszewski can be reached at 448-7617 or katie.urbaszewski@dailycomet.com.</p>